


Here is what I'd like to tell

by oxymoron



Category: Handmaid's Tale - Atwood
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Rape/Non-con References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 21:55:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxymoron/pseuds/oxymoron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here is what I'd like to tell. I'd like to tell a story about how Moira escaped, for good this time. Or if I couldn't tell that, I'd like to say she blew up Jezebel's, with fifty Commanders inside it. I'd like her to end with something daring and spectacular, some outrage, something that would befit her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here is what I'd like to tell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daybreak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daybreak/gifts).



> _The light is artificial. We only work at night, and during the day, they close the blinds so that we can sleep and stay quiet. I guess you could read some kind of symbolism into that, but whatever. I’m not telling you because it stands for something – it could, but it doesn’t. I’m telling you because it fucking bugs me never to see the sun, never to know what time of day it is, or what season. It bugs me that the light is always the same shade, the same intensity, just a little too bright and a little too cold. I’ve read once (_before_) that you get depressed without regular exposure to sunlight. I feel depressed, all right. Don’t know how much the lighting’s got to do with that._

**2:54.** I’m alone, stretched out on a double bed in one of the better rooms. There’s a larger group of women next door, but their voices are subdued. Probably, they’re just not in the mood to talk loudly, but I indulge myself by believing that they’re trying to give me space. I’m already dressed for work. There’s nothing to do now but lie down and watch the clock: I’ve got five more hours before the men will arrive. After that, maybe half an hour. My corset’s poking into my ribs where the wire has come loose. That thing won't last much longer. It won't need to.

> _Three months ago, Kate told me I looked “like something the cat’s dragged in”. I’ve not seen her since. Hardly a surprise, that, but I haven’t seen her Commander, either, and I have no illusions about the implications. He’s certainly dead, and she’s almost certainly—she’s certainly been reassigned. Did I say I had no illusions? I’m such a liar. Anyway, without Kate, I guess I wouldn’t have a date with a shovel, a match and a gas line in five and a half hours. She’d be proud._

**3:00**. Exactly five hours now. The clock’s soft ticking noise is grinding on my nerves. I distract myself by trying to identify the voices next door. Natalie. Amy. Anne. Val, or is it Lisa?

> _When I got to Jezebel’s. the Colonies seemed like my only alternative, and I didn’t want _that_. Plus, at first, this place didn’t seem so bad. Yeah, I know you’re not buying that and believe me, I’d like to give past-Moira a good slap. But they had colors and music and drinks and cigs – and women. Women like me: the misfits, stories just like mine or worse, women who didn’t think twice about calling this shithole and all those sorry dicks by their names. All of us as low as you can get, with no perspective of ever moving up, and the one good thing about that is that it builds real solidarity, simply because it’s impossible to betray one another when there’s no blackmail potential and nothing to gain. I’d missed that feeling of belonging, of mutual trust and acceptance. I joked to Kate about the sex. I shouldn’t have. I should have been honest with her, should have told her how much it meant to me to have something consensual, freely given, and wholly equal. To not have it (and be respected in that decision) on occasion. But I couldn’t tell Kate. Maybe she was already too much of an outsider._

**3:19**. I’m willing the clock to go faster.

> _Just like the rest of Gilead, Jezebel’s works after its own set of rigid rules. In fact, it’s only one maxim: Be Entertaining! All other rules (on dress, weight, drugs, the right mixture of cheek and servility) are derived from that one. Consequently, there are only two punishable offences: being late for entertaining, which leads to contact with the Aunts’ prods, and failure to entertain, which leads to the Colonies. They know we know they can throw us straight into the garbage – literally – if we fail to deliver. That’s brutal, but not more brutal than the other punishments that Gilead holds for rule-breakers. I’ve seen a lot of this new world: Jezebel’s is not the worst place to be._
> 
> _What sets Jezebel’s apart is the subtlety of its cruelty. (Everything that seems to be a blessing at first sight turns out to be another form of control, violation, appropriation, or insult.)_
> 
> _There is no scarcity. (All resources – costumes, cosmetics, food, drugs, light, and time – are carefully distributed, and not by us.)_
> 
> _There's no bugging. (We don’t have secrets worthy of discovery.)_
> 
> _Movement inside the hotel is not restricted off work. (There is nowhere we could go.) _
> 
> _We get our drugs of choice. (Our bodies don’t need protection; they are worthless and disposable.)_
> 
> _They even allow homosexuality, use it for their own entertainment, and rob us of the only thing that was just ours._

**3:35.** I consider going into the basement once more, just to check on everything. I don’t dare. What if somebody does pay attention to me, just once?

> _I divide my time here into "before Kate" and "after Kate". Before Kate, I had given up. I was resigned, I played by the rules for the first time and I was damn good at it. I had my role of the jaded, faded cynic down to a T. I know Kate saw it. She'd always been the perceptive one: She still was. I'd always been the strong one: I tried to assume that role again, tried to be nonchalant. It didn't work. I could see how she continued to lose faith in me with every sentence. It wasn't nice, but it brought me back to my senses._
> 
> _You know what i realized after Kate? The Commanders and the Aunts, t__hey underestimate us. Or maybe they overestimate our desire to survive. They’re right to think that we can’t escape. That we can’t smuggle information in or out. They’re _wrong _to think that that means we can’t cause harm, in here. __ They rely on the belief that __–__ because we’ve made it to the very bottom of their new world order __–__ we’re weak, inferior and completely broken. Quite the contrary, baby. Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.___
> 
> _Once I started thinking about alternatives, there were plenty. I could just off myself, of course. Easy, but what’s the point? So I thought, I could take out one of the higher-ranking Commanders. Some of them like it rough; just take the breath play a little too far. The times when I couldn’t bring myself to kill Aunt Elizabeth are long gone. Of course, I’d still have to kill myself after that before the Eyes could get me. I no longer mind that. On average, you last about two years in Jezebel’s before you’re too fat, too stoned, too wrinkly or just too boring and they sort you out. I’m running out of time anyway. So I was very fond of that plan for a week or two. But then I reconsidered. What use is one Commander? This system has made every individual – starting with me right up to the top – replaceable. But Jezebel’s is crawling with Gilead’s finest. On good nights, there are fifty or more here. If there was a way to get them all… that would be _something_._

**3:46.** The door opens. It's Amy. She enters quietly, lies down next to me. "Are you ready?" I shrug. what are you supposed to say to that? She nods, as if my gesture was all the answer she needed. Maybe it was. I put my head on her shoulder. We lie like that for a long time, until the room slowly fills and more and more women join us on the bed. Nobody speaks, nobody makes any loud noises or quick movements. For a minute I feel like I'm part of some weird esoteric ritual. Then I relax and just concentrate on the feeling of the mattress sagging more and more under each additional body.

> _I was very hesitant to share my plan with the others at first. I shouldn't have worried; I didn't lie when I said they were all just like me. None of us have anything to live for, but resentment enough to blow up a hundred Commanders, if we can get that many. And the rest is so easy._ _ T_ _he world is full of weapons if you’re looking for them.  
> _

  


> **5:11.** One after the other, we're losing our unnatural calm and starting to get jittery. It's like somebody's poked a stick into a bees' hive. Everybody is doing something; none of it makes much sense. Val claims one of the Aunts is acting funny, five others try to calm her, Lisa is trying to peek through the blinds into the empty parking lot, Julia is looking for her stockings. I myself am applying lipstick. It's stupid_ – _the quality is rotten and it will have rubbed off by tonight. It doesn't matter. I need to do something with my hands_._

> _Don't think of it as dying. You've been dead ever since they caught you the second time. Think of it as ending. Choosing your own ending. Think of it as making your final choice, and robbing them of theirs._
> 
> _It doesn't work. _
> 
> _Then don't think at all. Just follow the steps.  
> _

  


> __

**7:****45**_**. **_Time to go up. Under the watchful eyes of two Aunts, we file into the elevator. Some are sent back to correct their make-up. I deliberately pick a spot in the middle of the line, and my looks are exceptional. Once I've reached the skylight, I choose a spot near the bar that conveniently happens to also be near the staircase. The stairs may not be used at night; they are watched by Aunt Ruth, who's sipping her usual glas of orange juice. Except today, that drink will make her feel unusually drowsy. Free drugs are a godsend. Hopefully, it's enough to let me slip out. If not, the others will stage a diversion.

**8:****_02_**_**. **_Showtime. The first guests are strolling in. They're immediately surrounded by a cluster of women; moved away from my corner of the room. I deliberately don't turn to see who it is. I'm telling myself that it's because I need to keep watching Aunt Ruth, who's starting to sag in her chair and blink frantically, but the truth is that I'm a coward. I can't face them.

**8:05**. Aunt Ruth yawns. I leave.

**8:13**. I'm at the basement door. My heart's beating like there's no tomorrow (it's got a point there) and I'm panicking at every little rustle, but I got out. Take a deep breath, Moira, get your shit together, you made it this far and you're not stopping now.

**8:15.** I'm calm again. The basement consists of a long corridor with doorless rooms to each side. I pass the first couple of rooms; these are regularly used by the cleaning and kitchen staff for laundry and storage. The farther rooms are no longer in use, and this is where I'm headed. I stop at the second-to-last entrance on the right. They keep gardening tools here. Amy found them a month ago. She suggested the snow shovel. I pick it up; the weight is very satisfying. I could strike down a Commander with this easily. I have higher aims.

**8:20. **Amy also left matches in the next room, under an old and wobbly desk.

**8:26.** The heating controls and gas lines are in one of the front rooms. Slim, metallic pipes. I should be able to break one of them with a good hit from the shovel.

**8:30.** It’s quick. First I strike the pipes and then I strike the match. The last thing I see is light, bright orange and so warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Yuletide recipient: Thank you for the great pompt and details. I would never have dared to dabble in this fandom on my own, but I had a lot of fun writing this (also a lot of panicking, but who's counting?) I hope you enjoy the result!
> 
> Random comments &amp; credits:   
> \- "Kate" is the name Offred has in the 1990 movie (which I haven't seen). I stuck with it because I decided it was as good a name as any, and to avoid confusion.  
> \- The entire summary is a quote from the end of chapter 38. Who am I to deny Offred her wish?  
> \- I stole one more quote from the book and smuggled it in. It fit perfectly and apparently, I have no shame. Cookies if you find it.


End file.
